


What are you gonna do, Basuda?

by ToxicBabes



Series: Tales of Apartment 8H [3]
Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Creampie, Edging, Finger Sucking, Love Bites, M/M, Mild S&M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post Cum Torture, Power Dynamics, Prostate Massage, Short Refractory Period, Smut, Top!Kapkan, bottom!glaz, crying after orgasm, cum as lube, sofa sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:08:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24305656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToxicBabes/pseuds/ToxicBabes
Summary: Maxim enjoys being in control and Timur is more than happy to yield to his desires.
Relationships: Maxim "Kapkan" Basuda/Timur "Glaz" Glazkov
Series: Tales of Apartment 8H [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1705774
Comments: 2
Kudos: 64





	What are you gonna do, Basuda?

**Author's Note:**

> The tags make this seem much wilder than it really is, but I tagged liberally to make sure everything was covered in case someone doesn't like that kind of stuff. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this! Big cheers to Cerosin for beta-reading this <3
> 
> This PWP is lumped in with the 8H series because of the setting alone. The series itself is essentially (mostly) domestic headcanons involving Kapkan and Glaz in their first apartment, and this so happens to involve some headcanons. I don't necessarily think they'll be building a sex swing anytime soon, but I can see Kapkan enjoying manhandling his man.

It was that particular look in Maxim’s eyes, how he spoke with a haughtiness that couldn’t be ignored, the control he exerted by just _staring_ at Timur. He beckoned a finger and the command itself had Timur’s legs weak and they brought him to kneel between Maxim’s strong thighs so automatically. Fingers weaved through Timur’s hair as he nuzzled his face against the rough fabric of Maxim's trousers, trying to take in a lungful of his scent. Just as he brought a hand to the waistband of Maxim’s sweatpants, the fingers coiled in his hair seized him to a standstill. 

Timur summoned the courage to raise his gaze and he met Maxim’s eyes, a cold sensation washing over his body like a shiver as he awaited some form of instruction, permission to even draw a breath. Maxim grasped him by his forearms and pulled him into his lap, allowing him to settle down comfortably before he began to inspect the fading marks on Timur’s pale neck. A desire to restore the vivid colours stirred within Maxim, he licked the sensitive flesh before planting his lips over those circular blotches, but soon enough he found his kisses trailing upwards along Timur’s jawline. 

“You want me wearing scarves into the summer, don’t you, Maxim?” Timur murmured, eyes closing at the scratch of facial hair against his neck but either way he yielded to Maxim, allowing him to do as he wished. “Keep this up and everyone will know.”

Busy with deciding which garment to take off first, Maxim’s hands slipped under the hem of Timur’s shirt to feel the firm muscles of his torso, running over the hairs on his chest before giving his pectorals a squeeze. “It’s funny watching you lie to them,” Maxim said with a smile growing on his face. “You’re so bad at it, they know you’re not telling the truth. They know something’s up, but they don’t know you’re _my_ boy.”

The cool air of the apartment had goosebumps rising over Timur’s back and they discarded his shirt on the armrest of the sofa. He held still as Maxim kissed along his clavicles. Thoroughness was part of the whole act, Maxim enjoyed playing with his food and by the time he was done, he was a vulture picking meat from bone off Timur’s exhausted yet satisfied body. And Timur was more than happy to be eaten alive.

“Do you get off on that too? Do you get hard at the thought that I’m yours?” Timur questioned then winced at the pinch of teeth nipping at his skin, a punishment for his cheek. They shifted positions in one sudden motion. Maxim pushed him down onto the sofa, hovering over him as a dark, imposing shadow that had Timur’s heartbeat quickening in anticipation of what was to come. “What are you gonna do, Basuda? Will I need the safeword?” 

“Keep that up and you will,” came the low warning, so gravelly the reverberations thrummed down into the marrow and the threat only fuelled a fire growing within Timur. The familiar burn of Maxim’s stubble grazed down his skin, lips kissed so tenderly and firmly against Timur’s nipples yet the way Maxim’s fingers sunk into the flesh of his hips echoed a possession they both knew too well. He gripped the waistband of Timur’s sweatpants, finding a grin spreading across his face when he spotted the outline of his erection. There was an expectant look on Timur’s expression and he laid so obediently, waiting to be rewarded. “Now, be good for me.”

He took off the sweatpants along with Timur’s underwear in one go and wrestled them off his ankles, leaving the garments on the floor as well. It was a captivating sight and Maxim couldn’t help himself- but he didn’t have to show any restraint because Timur was his alone and more than happy to submit to whatever desires roused in his thoughts. He planted each hand on Timur’s thighs to feel the hairs, his firm muscles and tight hamstrings. Those thighs filled into trousers way too nicely and Maxim couldn’t get enough. Seeing Timur in anything form-fitting had a tendency to awaken something primal inside Maxim that urged him to ravage him whole. 

As his hands drew close to Timur’s cock, a visible tension washed over the latter’s body and the muscles under Maxim’s hands stiffened in a mixture of anticipation and excitement. It was hard not to notice, he was so familiar with his body, where and how to provoke the slightest of reactions. Maxim looked up once again, every action deliberate and he assessed the way Timur took in a steady breath, his fingernails digging into the rough fabric of the sofa as he watched with such an eager gaze. 

It wouldn’t be Maxim if he gave into Timur’s desires too quickly. The complicated situation was that it gratified Maxim to prolong this engagement; his mind feasted on the idea of teasing Timur, coaxing him so close to the brink of climax then seizing that moment with an iron grip, holding it just out of grasp for the younger man, and it aroused Maxim to watch him struggle. While Timur’s interests laid in just getting off, part of the thrill came from this torturous play of being pushed to his limit until he was completely pliant under Maxim’s touch, exhausted of all energy. 

Maxim spent several minutes admiring Timur’s physique, running his smooth palms over his firm body. He kept delaying, waiting to see if Timur would snap. 

Though as he did so, he appreciated how _lovely_ Timur was from head to toe. He wasn’t chiseled like a sculpture, he was no model with insanely low body-fat percentage but his musculature was simply perfect in Maxim’s eyes. Shoulders were broad, arms defined, pectorals irresistible but with plenty to grab, to sink fingernails and teeth into. Every aspect of Timur was to Maxim’s taste, from the hairs over his chest and legs to the sound of his moans so deep yet melodic to the ear. He was formidable and strong enough to withstand what Maxim wanted to do to him, so compliant and willing. 

Maxim pressed his lips against Timur’s inner thigh before he nuzzled his face into his hardening cock to take in the scent he adored. He dragged his tongue along the shaft, enjoying the noise that escaped from Timur, hips twitching in hopes to gain any more sensation beyond the initial stroke of wet saliva. Although he would be naive to think Maxim would give him head, especially not now. That would be too easy. 

“Don’t come until I say you can,” Maxim reminded him. It didn’t have to be said by now but he enjoyed giving commands, bossing Timur around and hearing his affirmation. Timur’s breaths quickened when Maxim began to stroke his cock, focusing briefly on the sensitive head before pulling lightly on his balls. The quick arousal didn’t come as a surprise. It had been roughly a week since they did anything together and if anything, Maxim always found this more fun. Like playing with fire. “What did I say?”

“No coming,” Timur repeated, holding himself back from thrusting his hips into Maxim’s fist. It was always a delight to witness such self-control and Maxim was proud of his obedience, but he questioned the chances of Timur acting out again. Sometimes he just wanted Maxim to give it to him hard, other days he needed to be disciplined again, but it appeared today wasn’t one of those days. 

It didn’t take long for deep, composed breaths to fall into shuddering moans and stuttering gasps. Timur wasn’t hard to please, there were times when making out and heavy petting was enough to set him off and that was how they disembarked down the road of frottage in full-gear. Though now, Maxim had other thoughts on his mind and he was determined to see through his fantasy. 

“Do you know what I wanna do to you?” Maxim asked, eyes greedily eating up the view in front of him, of Timur falling apart under his steady strokes, the precum shining and slick over his fingers. He was enjoying this too much. Maxim gave Timur a light slap against the shaft of his cock, hard enough to catch his attention as he drew a sharp breath but the gentle stinging only released a wave of endorphins through his body. Timur looked him in the eye, breathless but his focus unwavering. “Gonna make you come so hard, then I’m gonna fuck you silly with it.”

“Oh, please,” Timur murmured, too desperate to realise what he was imploring for. He reached an arm behind him for the armrest of the sofa, anything to grab onto and anchor himself as he tried his best not to come. 

Sensing he was close, Maxim eased off and allowed him to recover but once he had a steady breath, they resumed. To muffle his moans, Maxim stuffed his mouth with two fingers, a silent order for him to suck and wetten them for what was to happen next. The sensation of Timur’s tongue lapping at his fingers filled his mind with the thought of the pleasure of shoving his cock into that mouth. In return, Timur could only imagine the salty taste of Maxim’s cock, the girth pushing down his throat, gentle asphyxiation to make his head fizzle and toes curl. 

Once his fingers were wet enough, Maxim reached down to trace along the cleft of Timur’s ass and he pressed the tip of his index finger against his hole, noting how the muscle contracted in anticipation. When Timur relaxed, he eased his finger into him and waited for his expression to shift at the newfound sensation. It didn’t take long to work him open and Maxim had two fingers in him easily, tempted to slide a third in to watch him squirm at the pleasurable stretch. Although he preferred to focus on massaging Timur’s prostate, listening to him gasping for air as he drove his hips down and wordlessly begged for more. 

With every stroke and graze of Maxim’s finger against his prostate, Timur’s erection seemed to arch into a satisfying curve, one which fit too perfectly into Maxim’s other palm. The heat around his fingers made his mind run wild at the mere thought of what he was going to do later. Conscious to prolong this, Maxim halted his motions when he sensed Timur was close, denying him the release he needed. For Timur, seven days was almost an eternity to go without getting off. He could orgasm from sheer willpower if Maxim talked enough dirty thoughts into his mind, that was how desperate he was. 

Seeing how sensitive he was to any touch, Maxim withdrew his fingers and figured it wouldn’t take much to get him to come. He pulled Timur closer to him by the hips then straddled his chest, pushing his clothed crotch into his face. Timur took in a deep breath and enjoyed the pushy grind of Maxim’s hips as he reached up to caress the older man’s sides. The tips of his fingers curled under Maxim’s waistband and he looked up to ask for permission. Without needing to provide an answer, Maxim pushed down his sweats and pulled his cock out, giving it several long strokes as he relished in the thought of Timur laying there in this precarious position, unable to do anything about his desires, whether that was to come or to suck him off. 

“Your cum and spit as lube, Timur,” Maxim warned him as he dragged the tip of his cock along his bottom lip. Timur stuck his tongue out to receive it, too expectant of an easy reward and he was only disappointed when Maxim teased him, tapping his cheek in a taunting manner. “Better suck it good, hm? And you want it bad, I can see it in your eyes. You want this cock, don’t you?” 

“Give it to me,” Timur said in a whisper, his body straining under the weight of Maxim on his chest. “Please.”

There was an instinct ingrained within Timur now. His mouth started salivating at the sight of Maxim’s hard cock and he took in careful breaths, preparing himself to take it in deep. He tried to relax his jaw as Maxim pushed in and Timur suppressed his gag reflex to the best of his ability, his throat giving way. He controlled his breathing through his nose but it became difficult with such a large obstruction. Maxim held him there for a moment longer, both hands palming the sides of Timur’s face and he tested how long he could last until the light tap of a hand against his side told Maxim to ease off otherwise he’d pass out. 

Timur gasped for air and drew several lungfuls before he nodded, opening his mouth to take him in again. All kinds of obscene, wet noises reverberated across the living room of their apartment and Maxim fucked his face steadily, each thrust of his hips deep and steady. He enjoyed the constriction of Timur’s throat greatly, the way his tongue rang along the underside of his cock, how his body squirmed when he held Timur down to test his limits. To look down at those blue eyes and meet a rebellious gaze that spurred Maxim on to make tears slip down his cheeks from choking too hard. Even when he did manage to make Timur cry a little, the younger man still took him on eagerly. 

Saliva dripped from Maxim’s cock when he decided this was sufficient enough. Timur’s chin glistened and he wiped away his spit with the back of his hand, cheeks flushed red and the vascularity of his neck visible. His head spun in dizzying circles from the lack of oxygen. He widened his legs as Maxim nudged them apart and gave a hoarse moan at the way he handled him so roughly, giving his balls a firm squeeze before jerking his cock. With his other hand, Maxim knew to continue massaging his prostate. It was a sure way to make Timur lose the plot. 

“You better give me a big load, I don’t want you to struggle taking me,” came Maxim’s low growl, the command like a harsh slap across the cheek and he stopped stroking Timur’s cock to prolong the pleasure curling his toes. His other hand continued to finger him, rubbing and pressing against the specific spot that had Timur’s legs trembling and his entire body tense. Timur managed to nod, holding back a whimper as he controlled his breaths but he was so incredibly close to falling apart any moment now. 

“Then let me come,” Timur suggested, his impatience slipping after so long of being _good._ A harsh crack echoed through the room, the sting across his face sore yet granting him an excitement that made his heart quicken its beat. He almost smiled from ear to ear when the hand grasped at his throat in a threatening manner but he reserved himself, only allowing the slightest of grins to flirt his expression and Maxim’s fingers pressed against his pulse.

“You better be glad I’m in a good mood today,” Maxim told him and returned his hand to stroking Timur’s leaking cock. “I want to see you limping tomorrow. All the guys are gonna wonder what’s got you walking funny… can’t wait to hear your excuses because you can’t tell them you’ve been taking my cock too hard.”

The talking was enough for Timur. His breaths stuttered and brows furrowed upwards as his thighs tensed. He grasped for Maxim’s strong arms and whispered an endless plea into their kiss, praying Maxim wouldn’t have a change of heart because if anything, Timur wanted to be dismantled piece by piece and left exhausted. The sheer joy of orgasming after a week’s abstinence had him in bliss. Waves of intense pleasure radiated through his body, the strained muscles of his loins pulsating with light spasms and he watched as his cock twitched, his creamy ejaculation soaking into the hairs of his abdomen. 

It was an impressive amount, some nearly landing onto the armrest of the sofa. It would be awkward to explain the stains should they leave any. Maxim’s lips curved into a grotesque grin, almost menacingly with how his scars warped around his glee. With two careful fingers, he gathered Timur’s cum and bit his lip, watching how it ran down his hand and dripped onto Timur’s inner thigh.

“You don’t disappoint, Glazkov,” Maxim commented, pleased. He pressed a kiss against Timur’s cheek, rewarding him before he stuffed Timur’s hole with his own cum. Not to waste any of it, Maxim wiped his palm down his torso to catch all of it, using it to lubricate his hard cock. It wasn’t unusual for the fatigue to set in, but this only enticed Maxim some more at the thought of using his boy until he had to be carried to bed. And of course, Timur enjoyed gratifying him. “Lick it clean.”

Maxim’s palm tasted of salt, from a mixture of his sweat and the traces of cum. Timur sucked each digit clean then licked along every line of his palm, looking up as he did so because he knew precisely his gaze was capable of driving him wild. Once he deemed it sufficient, Maxim took him under the knees and pushed them to his chest. He tucked a cushion under Timur’s lower back and wasted no time pushing into his tight hole. The heat was addicting, along with the sensation of Timur clenching down around him, hearing his breath hitch in his throat as he held back a groan at the sudden stretch.

Burying himself as deep as possible, Maxim crumpled Timur’s body against the arm of the sofa, testing the limits of his flexibility and he leaned into him, holding this rigid position for a moment to allow him to adjust. Their eyes met and Timur’s lips parted to draw steady breaths. It was this exact look of him, holding his knees to his chest, skin glistening with perspiration, every curve and contour of his muscles illuminated by the glow of the television. Maxim didn’t want to hold back. 

It was impossible to. Timur was so pliant and willing under his touch, his body sturdy enough to brunt the force of every rough thrust. Every quality of him was simply divine from his deep grunts to his scent that invaded Maxim’s olfactory system to give an elation like no other. Then, the mere thought of knowing this man was his alone- Maxim was drunk on the power. 

The view of his thick cock entering Timur was intoxicating and every time he drew back, along came the white streaks of ejaculation from earlier. It provided sufficient lubrication, leaving some friction that added to the pleasure. Though Maxim’s intentions were to fuck all of it out, leaving only room for his load and he would fill Timur so full, claim him. 

“Keep your hands where they are,” Maxim gave the order. He anchored one palm against Timur’s sternum to steady his body while the other reached between his legs to squeeze his softening dick. Timur tensed over and a sharp gasp slipped from him, he resisted the urge to close his legs. “Stay still.” Another warning, so low and gravelly Timur felt it up his spine. 

From the thickness of Maxim’s cock driving in deep to the overwhelming sensitivity of his own cock, Timur didn’t know how much longer he could take it. Usually he was able to reserve his own noises to the two of them, but Maxim recently discovered how to draw anything louder than a groan and it was this delicate yet short period between Timur’s orgasms. He was blessed with a brief refractory period that made this kind of fantasy possible and Maxim capitalised on every minute of it. He loved how Timur squirmed and cried out at the intense sensations, yet not once did Timur ever feel the need to use their safeword. There was a little masochist in there under that handsome face. 

Afraid of the neighbours hearing, Maxim clamped his hand over Timur’s mouth and continued the sadistic massage, paying particular attention to the head where it was so sensitive, protected by soft foreskin. Out of morbid curiosity, he slipped a finger to graze the delicate glans and Timur’s hands strayed from where he was ordered to keep them. He seized both Maxim’s wrists, blue eyes so wide that the whites were visible but he was pinned down, unable to resist this touch.

Maxim released his mouth to allow him a breath, perhaps a word if he needed it. “Did I say you could move?” He pointed out, gripping Timur’s jaw to look at his face, to send him a stern look he could not disobey. Timur returned to his previous position, tugging his knees back even though his muscles were aching and cramping. Yet Maxim enjoyed him like this. He took him, every inch of Timur straining body with delight in his blissful suffering.

And soon enough, the tension and discomfort gave way to a returning pleasure. Timur’s loins drew taut as every harsh thrust grazed against his prostate. His cock was beginning to harden again and he craved to feel more of Maxim, encouraging him with needy moans. A slight smile brightened Maxim’s serious expression when he spotted Timur’s erection. He didn’t touch it, but chose to cup Timur’s cheeks to pull him into a wet kiss. 

The building tension in Maxim’s body was verging on unbearable, though he knew the only way to dispel this was to work himself over the edge. The past week slipped by him so easily like it was nothing, yet now he was feeling the pent-up urges he held to himself. Desperate for release, he continued to rut his hips against Timur’s body in animalistic fashion. He didn’t care for the noise they were making now, barely able to find an anchor on the unstable surface of the sofa. 

The foot he had against the floorboards slipped and knocked over their wine sitting on the low coffee-table. They paused briefly to look over at the shattered glass but Maxim paid it little thought and sank his face back into the nook between Timur’s neck and shoulder. The sofa shifted against the ground, sliding a few inches from where his foot pushed to deliver more force in every movement of his hips. 

Underneath him, Timur was spent of all energy, overstimulated to hell and back but he was hanging in there, hoping for another orgasm to relieve his leaking cock. Each buck of Maxim’s hips drew an involuntary moan and Timur wrapped his legs around the older man’s waist. He threaded his fingers through Maxim’s short hair and held him close to feel the scratch of his stubble. 

There was no desire to prolong this torture for neither of them. Maxim stroked Timur’s cock with a firm grip, coaxing him closer to his second orgasm tonight. Every thought in Timur’s head was ricocheting at a thousand miles per hour, his heart rate was out the roof, breaths staccato as his chest rose and fell in rapid intervals. Everything was intense, the heat, the pleasure that rested on the precipice of being heavenly and the most frustrating pain anyone could go through. Timur was sure he was going to evaporate.

Hot tears slipped from the corners of his eyes. He came with a hoarse moan, muffling his cry into his palm. The following breaths trembled and torrents of emotion flooded every inch of his being. Streams of his cum ran down the length of his cock, some landing on his chest to make his skin sticky all over. From the way Maxim’s nails dug into his hips and the sharp sting of teeth sinking into the flesh of his shoulder, Maxim was close too. 

Beyond heavy breaths and suppressed groan, Maxim was a quiet lover for the most part. That was, until he climaxed. 

Timur reached back to hold onto the arm of the sofa and there were so many words he wished to say yet he couldn’t utter a single one, almost delirious from every endorphin coursing through his spent body. Though, if he had a coherent thought, he would beg Maxim over and over again to take him, fill him up with his hot cum and bury it deep inside, make a huge fucking mess to inconvenience tomorrow’s morning. 

It was certain the neighbouring apartments caught Maxim’s moan. His thrusts came to a sudden stop, he pressed in close against Timur’s body and held the position for several good seconds. Timur kissed his temple where his grey hairs sprouted and relished in the pulsating twitch of Maxim’s cock pumping in a generous load. Maxim remained unmoving and took tentative thrusts as he caught his breath. 

He raised his gaze to meet Timur’s tender expression, wet eyelashes to the shine of tears on his reddened cheeks. Timur sucked in steady breaths to maintain his wobbling composure. In an automatic response, Maxim caressed his face with a gentle touch and kissed him, basking in the warm emotions of their aftermath. He leaned back and observed the mess they made before he pulled out, shifting back on the lumpy sofa.

“Holy shit, I love you,” Timur murmured in a breathless croak once he gathered himself, the corners of his lips pulling upwards into a weary smile. The flexors of his hips ached at the slightest of movements but he opened his legs when Maxim grabbed a spare tissue to clean him. He did what he could and in a brazen manner he leaned down to lick the ejaculation left on Timur’s abdomen, pulling a face as he did so but doing it out of his own accord. “You enjoy the taste, bastard.”

“The flavour of my Timur, of course I do,” Maxim said and hummed. He picked up Timur’s delicate body with a joking grunt and stepped around the broken glass on the floor. The growing pool of red wine looked like blood, but it gave the perfect excuse to finally throw out that dreaded rug. He brought him to their bedroom and laid him on the bed. “Was it okay?”

“Yeah. Hot.” Timur flashed him a smile and gripped his hand, admiring his body from where he sat on the edge of the bed. Overcome with a bashfulness unlike him, Maxim tried to hide his embarrassment and looked elsewhere, putting on a facade of stoicism. “Right, go clean up the glass. I’ll wait for you.”

**Author's Note:**

> My Twitter is [@CompoundZ8](https://twitter.com/CompoundZ8)  
> My Tumblr is [erc-7](https://erc-7.tumblr.com)


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